


halves

by watergator



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-10
Updated: 2019-02-10
Packaged: 2019-10-25 18:32:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,634
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17730446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/watergator/pseuds/watergator
Summary: dan goes out during a storm





	halves

Rain pours; it seems to squeeze from the sky in big fat rolls of droplets that come down hard and fast.   
  
Alongside the heavy pattering of rain that showers down, spitting like little bullets against the glass of their bedroom window, the wind howls fiercely, whistling a scream throughout the outside air that keeps Dan awake.   
  
He doesn’t usually mind the wind, or the rain; he likes to scroll through his phone of a day with the window open so he can hear it hit the pavement below their apartment along with the occasional splash of water when a car drives through a puddle dipped in the road, and just as it stills, Dan will hear another similar splash of rain water falling upwards and back down again.   
  
He loves it when it storms; the way the air feels just before a crack erupts from the sky, or when the lights are off and the room will illuminate for a split second with a blinding white.    
  
But right now, there’s no real storm; thunder hasn’t broken yet and lightning stays hidden away as the rain and wind take over instead.   
  
Dan lays on the flat of his back, listening to the rain outside and where the wind knocks on the closed window harshly, almost desperate to be let in.   
  
It’s not really a storm, Dan thinks, only some kind of half storm - like half the effort thrown from the sky with the rain and the wind and nothing else. There’s no satisfying boom across his head and no lightning to get a little scared about.   
  
It’s keeping him awake though. The wind sounds harsh and strong and maybe he’ll have to check in the morning to see if their wheelie bin survived it all, because he’s sure he heard the heavy clunk of plastic smack against the concrete just a little while ago, and he’s sure that if their week’s worth of rubbish has scattered across the street they’re sure to be unwillingly inviting a small club of foxes to come dig through old pizza boxes and the last of the spaghetti Phil made for dinner two days ago.   
  
He lays still, hoping that maybe if he doesn’t move then the mattress under his body will suck him under and in, and drag him to sleep. But no such thing happens, and he’s stuck staring bored at the ceiling.   
  
He hears another clattering sound, like a bottle rolling around outside and his mind goes immediately to the white wine he and Phil shared last night that he’d thrown in the bin.   
  
He glances over at Phil who’s nothing but a lump of blankets tucked under his chin, sound asleep and oblivious, when Dan quickly slips out of bed, shoving his feet into his slippers and pulling on Phil’s new hole-hoodie over his head as he makes his way out of their dark bedroom.   
  
He creeps downstairs, and somehow, although it’s only the wind and the rain, it still seems somewhat scarier down here; he’s not sure if it’s because it’s darker of if because his brain is suddenly aware that Phil no longer lays beside him, but he quickly grabs the keys and is heading towards the door to go investigate their knocked over bin.   
  
He opens the lobby door and his arm is yanked forward where he has a tight grip on the handle; the wind pulls and tugs until Dan maintains his strength and pulls back until the wind let’s slip of it’s grip and Dan is able to walk outside and shut it gently behind him.   
  
The rain soaks him through within seconds. Phil’s hoodie alongside his Game of Thrones pj’s are thoroughly drenched all the way to his skin, which stings as the wind whips and bites at him as it continues to fury on.   
  
Only half a storm, Dan reminds himself as he walks out the front of the building, feet squelch with each step and cold water slides between his toes, and he’s almost pissed off that he came out here in his nice new slippers, but he catches sight of their bin with their door number spray painted on the side, strewn on the floor with the lid lifted half way off, a few scatterings of their trash evident on the floor before him.   
  
He bends down and begins scooping up what he can, soggy cardboard melts in his hands as he tries to shove it back into the bin, and once he’s collected what he can, he uses his strength to haul the bin back upright and push it against the wall.   
  
He gives a sigh, his body shakes quick with a shiver as rain crawls down his neck and he spots a rogue domino’s garlic dipping pot roll around before being swept away into the wind. Dan stands and watches it dance around on the street as the rain and wind burn against his skin through his clothes.   
  
He thinks he could perhaps stay out here all night if he could; although he’s not really up for waking up tomorrow with his nose stuffed and throat scratchy - but the way he can feel every inch of his skin drip wet and cold, it makes him feel very much alive.   
  
It gives his brain to pause for a moment on the own swirling of the inside of his head, to concentrate on the way everything comes down on him in this moment.   
  
He has no worries like this - he can be rained on, and he can let his fingers go numb and he can blink away drops of rain that cling to his eyelashes and he can not think about anything at all.   
  
He’s enjoyed that - enjoyed the way that his brain can focus on this half a storm outside instead of what kind of other half storm his head liked to conjure. He likes having that control; albeit even if it included going out in the rain to pick up a fallen bin.   
  
He figures if he stays out here any longer than he already has, he’d be more than mad, so he turns on his heel and heads back inside.   
  
The warmth that the building offers him almost engulfs his freezing body, and as he walks up the stairs leaving behind wet footprints in the shape of his slipper souls, he hopes the landlord only appreciates the sacrifice of a damp carpet from gathering runaway litter in the street.   
  
Once he’s back in their apartment he feels a lot more tired, maybe from the way his clothes seem to hang heavy off his body and he does his best to sneak back through the bedroom to the bathroom, but Phil is sat up, rubbing his eye with the heel of his hand as Dan stands in the doorway.   
  
“What the hell are you doing?” Phil says, his voice laced with thick sleep and it’s everything that makes Dan feel ten times warmer.   
  
“There’s half a storm out there,” Dan whispers to him across the room and he feels his lips tug into a smile as Phil blinks blearily at him.   
  
“You’re insane,” Phil says bluntly. “And wearing my bloody hoodie. Go get in the shower, I’m making tea,” he grumbles as he strips back the covers and hops out of bed clad in what are probably Dan’s black tight boxers.   
  
He watches him disappear into the darkness that swallows up the rest of the apartment before he peels off his wet heavy clothes and lets them hit the floor with a satisfying wet slap.   
  
Once he has the shower running hot until steam settles against the glass, it drowns out the rain outside and Dan can focus on the water hitting the porcelain floor beneath his feet as he stands under the spray, his already wet body now washed in a nice warmth.   
  
When he’s done and pulling on an old shirt and Phil’s pyjama bottoms that had been discarded on the floor, smelling a bit like sweat and day old sex and just  _ Phil _ , he’s met by Phil who’s coming back with two mugs of tea in his hands.   
  
“Here,” Phil mumbles, still sounding tired as Dan takes the mug from his hands and gives it a long slow sip.   
  
They settle back into bed and Phil grumbles about Dan’s hair being wet and how he’s stupid for going outside in a storm like this.    
_   
_ __ Half a storm , Dan thinks. Because sometimes when you’re figuring out your own disaster in your head, the world likes to sympathise with its other half.   
  
But the more days Dan lets himself breathe and let the rain soak him through and let the wind sting at his skin and bite at him until he’s shivering and figuring out to bring warmth to the tips of his fingers and his toes again.   
  
He has to let it wash over him every once and awhile. He’ll open up his laptop tomorrow and finish off the half script he has drafted down, get his head half thinking about what it is he wants to post and what he needs to do to get there. He’ll get there in the end, even if it takes a while; he’ll do it in halves - in the tiniest pieces if he has to.   
  
Phil pulls him in and Dan happily lets their legs tangle and foreheads bump against one another with the gentlest of touches.

Dan lets himself focus on the drumming of rain against the window until it ceases and stops and it’s like it never existed in the first place. And then Dan lets himself fall asleep, he’ll wake tomorrow and he’ll have time to focus on what he wants, because he'll have that control over himself.

One half at a time.    


**Author's Note:**

> come say hi on tumblr !! @watergator


End file.
